Voldemort's Daughter
by Ember27
Summary: The daughter of Voldemort attends Hogwarts and is the true Heir of Slytherin. Full of hatred for mudlbloods, muggles and espcially Harry Potter
1. Default Chapter

On this day in a small town not long ago, a small girl runs along a cobbled street with a group of children running after he shouting names, laughing and throwing small stones at the fleeing girl. These children are not bad they just do as they were taught to do, to hate that which is different from them and this girl is very different. The differences were obvious from a superficial point of view, she had no father, and her mother is crazy everyone said so. She came to school in worn clothes that stayed the same year after year. In truth, these children may have forgiven her these deficiencies in character had she herself not been so different from them, so set apart. A child of 10 with big dreamy untouchable eyes of starry royal purple. A child that preferred her own company to that of others. It is wrong to want to be alone, so they laughed at her calling her names guessing as to her father could be, the devil perhaps? Maybe that is why her mother had gone mad, knowing she had spawned a child of the devil. They followed the girl all the way to her front gate, and as she stumbled through to safety, they yelled their last insults to her shaking back. As they left the girl watched them go waiting silently a few minutes more before turning around wrapping her thin bruised arms around her around her thin body shivering against the cold. She sat down on her doorstep, she did not desire to go in, for she knew what was waiting for her. A cold bed and very little dinner, with distant eyes starring into space rarely acknowledging her or ever showing love. She felt tears begin to slide down her cheeks she felt so alone. She cradled her head in her arms and sat quietly in that position until a voice startled her from her reverie. "Excuse me," it was a man, the girl was nervous at once no one ever came to their house except an old man that brought a check once a month that kept them from starving. "Is your name Persis Riddle?" Persis stood to her feet very quickly he knew her name, so he was not some common sales man that had wondered on their property by mistake. She was ready to flee into the house. She had very little trust in people especially those who knew who she was. Her experiences had taught her one thing people were cruel especially those she knew. "Please don't be afraid, I am not here to hurt you. I.I am an old friend of your fathers. And you are your father's daughter those eyes no one else could have those eyes." Persis stopped herself from fleeing, turning to face the man completely before speaking," You knew my father?" The man smiled at her reassuringly, "Yes, I knew your father" Persis stepped from her porch and walked cautiously to the man. She had noted his use of the past tense "knew" and the way his eyes cast down when he spoke, a look of regret and sorrow. Persis noted all these things for she was an observer of people and took note of many things others would forget or overlook. And as she stared at this man, she took note of his appearance, everything from the strange looking glasses resting on a crooked nose, white hair tied up in a ponytail. Her nervousness began to fade she cocked her head to the side looking up into his eyes as the sun began to sink in the horizon; it cast his face in shadow making it difficult to see him. "What was his name?" she asked, for a name would be nice a name to stick to the face she had imagined her father might have. The man answered right away and with no hesitation, "Tom, Tom Riddle. And he was a man of great power." Power? What sort of power, she wondered this idly, she who had always felt so powerless knew a certain excitement at the fact that at least her father had been a powerful man. "What happened to him?" "He was murdered." The man answered in a harsh voice filled with anger, "murdered by a babe" he laughed at this and Persis grew angry how dare this man laugh at her father's death. "What do you mean" she demanded already she had grown bolder. "I would love to tell you, over a bowl of ice cream perhaps. She grew angry at this, as though she were a child to be placated by ice cream, and yet the idea was tempting. She had never had ice cream before and the prospect excited her. "Will you come with me?" he asked once more, and Persis looked over her shoulder to the house curious if she should tell her mother or not. She had never left the house for anywhere but school before and yet she didn't think her mother would even realize if she was gone. And so she made her decision, walking slowly and deliberately she opened the gate took the offered hand from the older man and followed and as he led her to new possibilities. 


	2. Sorting

Chapter 1: It Begins  
  
Entering the great hall at Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry was a little nerve racking at first for Persis. She had long been sheltered by Warren in his home, meeting few people and mainly only death eaters in the last four years. Feeling as though she were entering the lions den she steadied herself at the main entryway as she heard the shouts and scream of various first year students. Embarrassing, it really was, having to be sorted with these children, but what was a witch to do? Rolling her eyes, she made her way through with the other children, stopped when they did, and waited for the sorting to begin. She did not really have any worries as to which hall she would be sorted in to. She knew it would be Slytherin, after all what other hall could there be for the daughter of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and the true heir of Slytherin? The names were called one by one and Persis waited for hers, she looked around her surroundings trying to find Harry Potter, the one that had killed her father. Spotting him next to a boy with shocking red hair and long gangly limbs and a skinny girl with bushy hair. Of course, she knew who these two were, Warren had informed her already, and Draco had given her hilarious descriptions of the three. She almost burst into laughter at the thought of Draco's imitation of Hermione's high squeaky know it all voice, she felt like she already knew these people, and already hated them. Mud bloods and Idiots she thought they would of course be destroyed, but all in due time. "Persis Riddle," a sharp commanding voice called out, Professor McGonagall. She took the few steps up towards the stool that held the sorting hat, removed it from the seat, and placed it upon her head. She waited patiently as for the hat to speak, to make some comment as to her identity, but the hat said nothing for the longest time. Persis shifted nervously on the stool, she had expected accusatory words from the hat concerning her father or even some sharp comments about the hate that filled her heart, but the hat said nothing, until at last, "so you have returned, and brought your hate with you once more." Persis almost ripped the hat from her head at these words anger filled her, how dare he make assumptions, the fool, he had always been one, but what could one expect from something made by Gordric. "Just sort me already," she growled under her breath, "I have been invited by Dumbledore himself"  
  
"Slytherin" the hat shouted into the quiet room, for the room had stilled completely, many confused as to why the hat had taken so long to sort this girl, it had never taken this long before. Many breathed a sigh of relief when the words were shouted, for they had felt a nervous apprehension that they themselves could not understand. As the girl with the long dark hair removed the hat, many got a clear view of her eyes, and it sent a chill down there spines. Those could not be the eyes of a human; surely, humans did not have eyes that color or that shone like stars from the night sky.  
  
Persis made her way to the Slytherin table, many shoved and pushed trying to make room for there newest member, she chose however to sit next to a young boy with greasy dark hair, and yellow eyes, Brandon, Warren's son. Many were shocked at her choice; Brandon was not very popular among the Slytherins very few even knew anything about him. He was a quiet boy who was ashamed of what he was preferring to stay in corners out of the way of others. He hated attention, people starring at him made him nervous and he was very angry with Persis for drawing attention to him. He knew why she was doing it too, to increase the mysteriousness of her coming, trying to make herself seem as unattainable as possible. He hated her. Persis turned at smirked at him; he glared back then looked down at his plate willing himself to become invisible. "Aren't you happy to see me Brandon? Father sends his love," she whispered under her breath ensuring that no one else could here her. "Father loves no one but himself, and no I am not happy to see you, I thought you were going to Durmstrange." He kept his voice low as well, he preferred that people not know that he knew Persis from elsewhere, then they might start asking him annoying questions. He looked carefully around the table hoping no one was watching him and caught the glare of Draco Malfoy he hated that bastard too. Damn it Persis why could not you have sat next to Malfoy, he thought, he would at least appreciate the attention, Draco craved attention like oxygen. Persis laughed at Brandon's reply, he was always like this a moody little baby who whined all the time of never being loved. Persis knew what it was like not to be loved and she hated Brandon because he had a father who did love him, just could not spend time with him now not with the preparations that had to be handled very carefully. What a brat she thought, looked over at Draco who was scowling at Brandon, caught his eye and smiled at him. Draco looked down at his plate and pretended to ignore her. 


End file.
